


Ciri Sings

by jatejariwahl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatejariwahl/pseuds/jatejariwahl
Summary: Music Industry AU
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	1. There's been a terrible accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMarvelousMadMadamMim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/gifts).



> for TheMarvelousMadMadamMim, who writes the best Eist/Calanthe fic out there.

They had been looking for any information for someone they could call to notify next of kin and came upon her number on a piece of paper in his wallet. The doors nearly slammed open and a wild-eyed woman tore through. 

“Hello, how can we help you?” the intake nurse called out. 

“Hello um yes, I’m here to see Eist Tuirseach I was called?” she managed shakily. 

“Ok, please spell the last name.”   
She recited rapidly.

“And the birthday of the patient?”   
She gave it. 

“And what’s your relationship to the patient?”   
She hesitated. “I’m his...I’m a friend. A family friend.”

“Are you in contact with close family at all?”  
“Yes I can call them.”  
“That’s alright for now. Here’s your visitor pass, we’ll have someone escort you to their room.”

Large gatherings were always a risk but she had felt especially uneasy the day of his show. There had been some political unrest in Nilfgaard at the time, but she didn’t want to say anything. She couldn’t go because Pavetta wasn’t feeling well. But she should have gone. Godammit, she should have—she started to weep quietly amongst the beeps of the machines and soft whooshes of the respirator they’re using to keep him breathing. He looked older and weaker and he wasn’t really there behind the pile of bandages around his head. The padding was beginning to soak through on the left side of his face, where they said the shrapnel had been the worst. 

“He’s only in a medically induced coma. They said he has every sign of making a full recovery,” she reassured when his family finally arrived. Ingrid hugged her tight and thanked her repeatedly, crying. Calanthe excused herself from the room to take a phone call. When she came back in, her face was pale and her lips were set in a thin, determined line. 

“I have to take care of something urgent at home.”

“Oh no… is everything ok?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes just fine,” she said tightly.

“Well if anything changes we’ll call alright?”

Calanthe never visited again but she sent him a small casio keyboard with a simple note: It’s not a moog mod but I thought of you.


	2. Moping part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://artificialeyes.net/adjusting-to-eye-loss-mind-map/adapting-to-monocular-vision/

He’s just listening to Novigrad on repeat after Calanthe goes her own way. His sister screeched that if he listened to that song one more time she would strangle him. In response he turned it up louder:  


_If you leave me now/ you take away the biggest part of me/  
ooOOOooOOoh baby please don’t goo!_

Eventually Ingrid broke down his door and had her hands around his throat by the time the track was crooning: 

_How could we eeeend it all this wayyyyy?_

“Good Lord, how are you crying this much with only one eye,” she exclaimed.

“You know that’s not how that works,” he choked. Not heeding his cries, she slapped the tears off his face with his own limp hands.

“Just leave me here to die,” he groaned.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT GET UP WE’RE GOING SHOPPING YOU SILLY JARL” she bellowed and promptly took him to market. Shop after shop she dragged him around, arm looped around his. He was forced to trudge along miserably until even Ingrid had enough and they ended up grabbing heaping portions of frozen yogurt. 

“Yours is melting,” she nudged him and he grunted in response. He hated eating in public. He was still having trouble bringing utensils to his face. It was always in a different place than he thought. He frowned and flicked a chocolate chip off the table. He should just stick to eating foods you pick up with your hands. Burritos and wraps until death.

“Are you upset about Calanthe?” She asked gently. He heaved a deep sigh in response. 

“You know she was first by your side right? She didn’t leave your side until we finally got to the hospital.”

“Yeah I know,” he muttered “I just don’t understand why she left.” 

“Aw honey…” she said sympathetically, and dropped her spoon to caress his shoulder. 

“She didn’t really explain to us either...but I’m sure she had a good reason.” Ingrid said. 

Eist knew that was true, but his traitorous heart couldn’t help but ponder: Why didn’t she stay? I would have loved to see her. It would have meant a lot.


	3. Around 10 months later, a chance meeting

He was running a little late so he was striding through the lobby towards the elevators when he heard someone call. 

“Eist? Eist!” 

At the familiar voice, he stopped in his tracks and whipped his head around to see Pavetta waving him over. 

“Oh my god Pavetta? Look at how much you’ve grown. And who is this?!” he gaped. 

“This is Cirilla,” Pavetta said shyly. “We’re going to get our shots today aren’t we?” She cooed at the sleeping baby in the carriage. Little Cirilla had tufty puffs of hair that was so blonde it faded into her pale skin. Her long eyelashes pressed against the softness of her cheek. If she opened her eyes, Eist had no doubt they would be as blue as her mother’s. Deep in her dreams, Cirilla mouthed gummily and drooled on her onesie. Eist could see it had twin ladybugs patterned on her tiny knees. 

“Wow Pavetta I had no idea.. If I knew, I would have-” he said, rubbing the side of his neck. 

“Oh no Eist, it’s not...You know how mom gets. We’re trying to keep it quiet.” Pavetta looked back out toward the entrance. “Actually, she just went to park the car. If you hang out I’m sure you’ll see her…?”

“Oh it’s alright Pavetta I’ve got to get to my appointment too,” He declined gently.

“How is everything?” Pavetta asked softly. 

“Just my monthly checkup. I might get fitted for a prosthetic soon.”

“Oh yeah mom told me a little bit about that. I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright, but thank you, I really appreciate it.” He waved her off. “Listen, Pavetta, I really do have to get going but take my number. If you need anything please let me know.” 

Later when he got home, he ordered a giant ladybug pillow for Cirilla. Couple weeks later, Pavetta sent a polaroid of little baby Cirilla sweetly nestled on top. It made his heart squeeze so hard he had to put the photo down for a second. Eventually he found a place for it in his wallet next to a scrap of paper with a number on it, yellowed and soft at the creases.


	4. Almost 16 years later, at a Halloween Party

Eist hated public functions. He hated going and not knowing anybody there. He hated feeling on edge because navigating crowds and new places gave him a headache. Most of all, he hated the barely concealed social climbing and posturing of the music industry. Plastic and glitter as far as the eye could see. But Halloween is different! It’s not everyday you can use your handicapability to great and creative use in a costume. Over the years he’s dressed up as:  
1\. Quite the provocative nurse uniform and his best Elle Driver  
2\. James Joyce  
3\. Number Two from Austin Powers  
4\. Mad Eye Moody  
5.Even David Bowie one year  
This year, he was going to be Odin in a themed costume with his family. Crach was going to be Thor, Ingrid had it all set up to be Lady Loki. He had to admit they looked incredible. But then Mousesack himself called him out of the blue and begged him to come to Calanthe’s thing. Yet again, Cintra Records was celebrating a milestone year of successes.

“Eist my man won’t you please come hang out. You’d be the only person I know there besides our gracious hosts and you know they won’t have time to entertain just me the whole night!” Mousesack practically begged. And then Ingrid overheard and told him if he didn’t go she and Crach would leave without him, and anyway they looked better as a duo for the photo ops than having to drag his mopey ass around all night. 

So instead he’s going as Snake from Metal Gear Solid, his plan B. Did he have a long list of costumes and a couple just ready made in his closet? Sh. Don’t worry about it. Let him have this. He had a car drive him over and he fiddled nervously with his eyepatch the whole ride there. It was slow going, navigating the crowd until finally he heard a familiar voice. 

“Eist! Hey! It’s so good to see you man!” Mousesack brought him in for a tight hug. 

“Long time no see! Still on loan?” Eist grinned, returning the embrace. 

“Still on loan” was a bit of an inside joke between them. Eist had met Mousesack at another one of these public functions and hired him as a studio pianist. His competency and professionalism, as well as the incredible ability to match any group’s sound and style soon had everyone in the industry clamoring for his talents on their tracks. He was being heralded as the Dave Grohl of piano in his heyday, but he finally found a home with Cintra Record’s indie rock artist Yennefer and her backing band Aretuza, stylized as Yennefer+Aretuza. Surprising for an artist whose background was classical, indie rock wasn’t really Mousesack’s style. But he was really there because he believed in their sound and he loved their dynamic. It was also super convenient that Calanthe asked him to tutor Ciri in piano lessons and music theory whenever he was not on tour. Today Mousesack was dressed in a beautiful red and blue coat with gold buttons and epaulettes, complete with a sword tied at his side and a half drunk cup of beer in his hand. 

“Did you see their latest music video?” Mousesack asked. 

“You mean Great Goddess? Are you kidding it’s incredible. Very witchy and empowering. The piano was a very nice touch,” Eist said. It had blown up on every social media platform, the talk of the season, whispers of awards for the upcoming Grammys. 

“Yup, that’s what the ladies wanted,” Mousesack beamed. 

“I’m really happy for you man you deserve it,” Eist said. 

The song changed and Mousesack said, “This is the group I’ve been telling you about! Nu disco my man, they keep doing remixes of your stuff!”

Eist listened to a couple bars. Yeah it is one of his, but their spin on it is smooth as all hell.  
At a particular drop Eist groaned in appreciation. “Oh fuck yeah,” he said. 

Mousesack cried over the music “See what I tell you! Where does Calanthe find these guys?” 

“Yeah she’s great,” Eist said. Mousesack gave him a soft, knowing look. Eist shook his head.

“We gotta dance!” he shouted and dragged Mousesack and his stupid beer to the dance floor. 

“I’ve got my finger on the trigger!” Mousesack sang, shooting his finger gun at Eist.

“Loooove is in control!” Eist sang back, holding his hand to his heart and rolling his head back. 

They’re bouncing around on the dance floor Mousesack is spilling a little of his beer with every jerk. Mousesack whooped, “Who says disco is dead?” 

Eist shouted back “No, let it die and be reborn anew!”

Suddenly Mousesack’s eyes widened. He jerked his head and Eist turned to follow his line of sight to the double staircase on the other side of the dance floor. The DJ duo on the platform must have known and been coordinated, because a remix blared out, the lights beamed on the trio on the stairs, and everyone roared in appreciation and recognition. 

The Schuyler Sisters! everyone cheered, lifting their cups into the air. It’s their gracious host all costumed up in period dress with her beautiful granddaughter and daughter framed in formation. They all simultaneously lifted an arm up and they all shouted WERK WERK to the beat. He watched her and her beautiful little family and crossed his arms, settling them with a little shoulder shrug. He can’t help the grin widening on his face to see her flounce and swagger.  
Someone handed her a cup, “Beer!” she shouted, and the crowd went wild. God Damn that woman had charisma. He felt Mousesack grab his shoulder and nudge him forward. 

“Where are you taking me?” Eist joked.

“Ah, I’m about to change your life!” Mousesack crowed.

“By all means lead the way,” Eist said, following the script readily. 

When they finally got to where the trio were milling about with the guests, Mousesack shouted, “My lady, we have crossed the ocean of the dance floor and fought countless drunk assholes to be before you in this moment. Please my lady, a boon, your favor!” 

Calanthe played along, “Such galant bravery deserves recognition! May I present my lovely daughter Pavetta, and my darling granddaughter Cirilla!”

“If it takes a war for us to meet it will have been worth it!” Eist declared and felt himself go a little breathless watching Calanthe wrinkle her nose at him, fighting a grin. Eist and Pavetta traded hugs and kisses, Mousesack gave Ciri a little twirl, complimenting her on her beautiful yellow dress. 

“Hello Ciri, it’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much,” Eist said earnestly. Finally. 

“Hello Mr. Tuirseach! Nice to meet you too,” she said shyly, and shook his proffered hand. 

“So how long did it take you to rehearse that entrance?” He asked.

“Just an hour, my mom whipped us into shape” Ciri grinned. 

Pavetta rolled her eyes when Calanthe groaned, “Felt like eons!”

“Come on then, dance with us! Show us what you got!” he said and dragged all of them to the dance floor, Mousesack and Calanthe close behind.

_Let me apologize/ I’ll make up, make up, make up, make up for all those times/  
Your loooooove, I don’t wanna lose/  
I’m beggin, beggin, beggin, beggin, I’m beggin you_

Eist moved around to the rhythm on the perimeter of their tight little inner circle. Pavetta and Mousesack (still clutching his beer) were doing some elaborate two-step in beat together, laughing at their attempts. He watched as Calanthe squished Ciri’s cheeks and sang to her as they swayed together. Eist felt like they were orbiting this precious warmth of their family. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him, heating him from the inside out. 

_Wait, can you turn around, can you turn around?/  
Just wait, can we work this out, can we work this out?/  
Just wait, can you come here please? 'Cause I wanna be with you_

When he opened his eyes Calanthe was by his side watching him, eyes deep and inscrutable. For a second he held her gaze, then the spell broke.  
“Whew,” Calanthe huffed fanning herself, “These corsets are murder!”

“Do you need some air?” Eist said, and he led her outside. Their little party all watched the two walk away. When they were finally out of earshot, Pavetta rolled her eyes and whispered to Mousesack, “Those two. We invite him every year for the past four years but this is the first time he’s come. You know I asked you to bring him because she asked?”

“Mhmmm I’m aware. Like courtin’ swans they are,” Mousesack muttered into his beer. 

But Ciri caught on and asked eagerly “What do you mean? Are Le-na and Mr. Tuirseach a thing? Since when?!” 

Mousesack blushed furiously and stammered, “Erm I don’t- that is uh, Pavetta do you want another drink I’m gonna…go to the bar.”


	5. A break from the party

“The eyepatch is on the wrong side,” Calanthe teased.

“Yeah but then I would be blind,” he protested, and at that Calanthe threw her head back and laughed out loud. 

“There are other parts to your getup that are authentic.” She said in a low voice and her eyes tracked down his back to his-

“My eye is up here.” He meant it jokingly, but his tone came out more of a growl than he intended. Her gaze snapped up, and his mouth fell open to see her flush a little. 

“Do you keep your acrylic on with the eyepatch?”

“Yeah just in case.” He lifted the patch up and tapped on his acrylic lightly to show her. Her face softened. 

“I’m really glad you came,” she said. 

He ducked his head, smiling. “Me too,” he breathed. Side by side they looked out at the cityscape over the balcony, twinkling lights in the distant heat. 

He cleared his throat and asked, “I’m so sorry I don’t know your costume. What is it?”

“Why do I bother,” she groaned. 

“Mmm are you a tavern wench? It’s just, without your schuyler sisters it’s hard to tell…”

“Haha you’re so funny.” She smacked his chest HARD, rolling her eyes.

“Ow~” he said emphatically. It actually hurt. Suddenly she grappled behind herself for a second before a zipping sound occurred.

“Hey can you loosen me up a little,” she said and turned around to present her laces to him. 

“Geez you weren’t kidding about a corset!” he exclaimed.

“Pavetta wanted to be accurate.” she grumbled.

“It’s kind of like shoelaces right?'' he said, uncertain. 

“To be honest, Pavetta was the one who laced me up. I’ve never really worn one before.” 

With some struggling from him and coaching from her, they manage to loosen it up enough for her to be able to breathe comfortably. 

“Can you get the rest of my zipper,” she said. Eist obliged.

She laughed, “I meant up!” He draws one finger lightly down the small of her back and he can see goosebumps happening before his eyes.

“Eist?” She asked breathlessly. 

He snapped out of it. “Yeah! Sorry.” He zipped her up dutifully and mournfully, watching each inch of skin disappear. But then she turned in his arms and looked up from under her eyelashes. And he became hyper aware of her breathing, and the way she was sliding her hands up his chest, around his neck, and the way his hands found their place on her hips. 

“Calanthe I-” he tried. But she silenced him, pulling him down for a passionate kiss.  
He moaned hungrily against her. He lost his train of thought and lost himself in her touch.   
(How could I be lost when you feel like home?)

When he finally caught his breath, he tried again, “Calanthe, I’ve been meaning to-”

They were rudely interrupted by the sudden buzz of her cellphone, which, by the way, where the hell was she keeping it? Out of the voluminous folds of her dress she dug around a hidden pocket and pulled out her phone. The glow of the screen illuminated the growing frown on her face. She sighed. “Ciri’s not feeling well. We’re going to call it a night.”

How long had they been out here? He wondered. “Do you guys need a ride? I can call for a car-”

“I can’t do this.” Calanthe interrupted, shaking her head. She wouldn’t look at him. “I need some space, I’m so sorry Eist.”

And he watches her walk away and his heart throbbed out of his chest, flopped onto the floor with a wet smack, and then crushed like a watermelon by a million sledgehammers.   
Dazed and confused and numb, he couldn’t really remember how he got back home. He was halfway through his routine when reality hit hard. He slumped over his bathroom counter, gripping the edge. 

“Fuck!” he gritted through his teeth.


	6. Moping part 2

_Hooold me now/ It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry/ I just want you to stay_

“Ugh, Novigrad again?” Ingrid groaned. “Oh it’s happened again hasn’t it.”

Eist just let his head hang.

_And after all that’s been said and done/ You’re just the part of me I can’t let gooooOOo_

“Have you talked to her about how you feel?” she asked. 

“...”

“Eist…”

“No, I'm giving her space, like she asked for,” he said with a jut to his chin, teeth clenched against the ache in his heart. “There’s so much I want to share with her and I think she knows or feels it or senses it and maybe it’s too much pressure.” 

“Well, how would you know for sure unless you tell her?” Ingrid insisted. 

He sighed. “I feel like every time I try to get closer to her, it doesn’t work out. I guess it’s not a good time for her right now and I have to respect that.” 

Ingrid gave him a look that was too much like pity for comfort. Before the whole situation became too much to endure, his phone rang. Saved by the fucking bell. And then he did a genuine double take when he saw the caller ID. 

“Sorry Ingrid, I have to take this,” he excused himself. 

“Hey can we talk?” Calanthe’s voice came through, tinny with the reception. 

He pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Of course.”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“You met Ciri right?” 

“Of course I remember her.”

“Well, I think she’s as talented as her mother and she wants to try her hand at the biz,” Calanthe said. “Pavetta thinks she has what it takes and so do I. I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if we could set up a session to show her the ropes?”

“Oh wow. I didn’t think you would ever...Yeah of course we can do a session.”

“Thank you,” she let out a breath of relief. “And listen...I’ve been meaning to ask you for this favor for a long time… I really like you Eist. I..”

His heart started sprinting. (I missed you so much) 

“But I don’t want you to think I was just trying to sweeten the deal for you.”

His heart stopped short and sank to the floor. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Ok. I want...I need to focus on Ciri right now.”

“I get it. No hard feelings.”

“Are we good?”

“We’ll always be good, Calanthe.”


	7. Recording Session #1

It was good, and then it wasn’t. When Ciri first walked into his recording studio, she was all wide eyed wonder and smiles. She walked through the halls staring at framed picture after picture of now famous bands working through sweat, tears, (sometimes blood), to find their signature sound. All boasting Eist smack dab in the middle of the process. Eist smiled to see her practically bubbling over with enthusiasm and excited energy. 

But the minute Ciri stood in front of the pop filter, Calanthe took over the session. She was giving way too many notes and Ciri was feeling the pressure. It was clear she was getting nervous and stressed which affected her thinking and performance, which then triggered an absolute flood of notes and corrections from Calanthe. After the 30th time Calanthe stopped the track to interrupt, Eist tore off his headphones and tossed them on the desk. 

“Let’s take five,'' he said sharply and left the room, but barely got a couple feet before Calanthe came storming after him. 

“Why are you mad at me?” She demanded. His first reaction was to open his mouth to deny it but she raised her eyebrows at him with a pointed glare and he reconsidered. 

He huffed and retorted “I’m frustrated, but I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

And he moved to walk past her but she planted herself firmly in his way. 

“I’m just going out for a smoke.”

“Tell me.”

“Calanthe.”

“Tell me.”

“Ciri is here right next door come on Calanthe.”

“Tell. Me.” her eyes flashed. He growled and tried to move past her again, but then she was crowding and herding him back. He can’t believe it, she was a full foot shorter than him but she was the one maneuvering him against the wall. 

“What are you 12?” In response, she put her arm up on the wall, caging him. 

“Move, your majesty.” He snapped. 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” she said. He blew out a breath. Fine. 

“I really hate it when you do this,” he said in a low voice. “Everything is always on your terms. You bulldoze everyone without regard for their own feelings and opinions.” Her eyes widened.

He continued, “If you’re going to just do it your way, then why can’t you just record at Cintra? What do you need me for?” For a moment Calanthe just stared at him. He sighed and turned to open the door when she spoke. 

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I need to protect her, you know how awful this industry can be. With you, I can trust this process. This way I can keep her safe. If I have a strong… if I come on strong, it’s just, it’s that I-

“Calanthe?” He asked softly.

She swallowed and began again. “I never told you about Ciri’s father. Around the time you..that you..got.. hurt...I got word that Pavetta was pregnant. She was 16! Some no good fucking BOY named Danny or whatever from a ska punk metal band. She looked up to him, and he took advantage of her. It happened under MY watch.” Her face scrunched up. “And now Ciri is at that age and she has talent yes, and a support system yes, but I can’t, I can’t let anything like that happen again. I just can’t.” 

His heart broke at the clear anguish in her voice. He clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No one knows. I made sure of it.” she ground out. Eist was taken back at the sudden steel in her voice. “If you think his rinky dink garage band ever rose above being a glorified opening act then you got another thing coming.” 

Eist saw that though her frame shook slightly, she remained proud. She stared straight at him, chin lifted in defiance, as if expecting him to recoil at her confession. He thought she had never looked so beautiful. “Calanthe, you have to know that Ciri has had a great role model in you. You can tell she looks up to you a lot right?” he asked. At that she let out a shaky laugh. 

“I have no doubt that she’s been watching you build Cintra Records all her life. But she won’t become strong with you coddling her. She needs to be able to call some shots,” he asserted. Calanthe nodded jerkily and the tears that had been brimming in her eyes finally overflowed. She turned away quickly to press carefully at the corners of her eyes. 

Eist reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Listen, let’s call it a night. There’s too much pressure on her right now.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.” 

“But I have an idea. There’s this guy in the business Mousesack did some work for that started young just like her. I heard he’s headlining Koratha Festival this year. 

Calanthe looked up in alarm, “Oh no. Not that silly whore...not-”

“Do you trust me?”


End file.
